


The Morning's Flush

by the_gabih



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gabih/pseuds/the_gabih
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for youshouldseethespearmintrhino's prompt: ‘sleepy slow sex. Bottom Gabriel please.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning's Flush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youshouldseethespearmintrhino](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=youshouldseethespearmintrhino).



Dean reluctantly blinks his way into semi-awareness at the feel of heat moving away from his back. He frowns, grunting sleepily in protest, and hears a soft snicker in response. Sam, he thinks. Probably. “It’s okay, Dean. We’re just going for a shower. Go back to sleep.”

Lips brush against his cheek, and he obeys.

The next time he wakes up, it’s because there’s hair up his nose and he really really needs to sneeze. So he twists round and does, and there’s a startled-seeming snuffle from beside him at the sound. A shuffling, too, and as Dean turns his head back, an arm is flung over his shoulder, a leg draped over his hip and he finds himself locked in place against Gabriel, who is busy nuzzling against his neck, making soft, sleepy noises as he does so. The orange spice candle Sam bought the other week- the gigantic girl- is lit over on the window sill, and the smell is bizarrely calming (not that Dean will ever, ever admit that out loud), and Dean is warm and too sleepy to poke fun at him, so he wraps an arm around Gabriel’s waist and tries to ignore how awkward the one that’s squished between the two of them feels.

“Woke me up,” Gabriel tells him, and Dean isn’t sure whether the extra depth to his voice is annoyance or pure not-yet-awake-ness, so he just presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Sorry.”

“Should be,” Gabriel murmurs against his neck, sounding a little too deliberately sulky for Dean to take him entirely seriously, but he decides to roll with it for now.

“You want me to make it up to you?”

That gets him a pleased, almost smug grin, which he takes as a ‘yes’. Kisses are out of the question- because ew, morning breath- so Dean settles for shifting down Gabriel’s body until he can trail sloppy, slightly slack-mouthed kisses down his face to his neck, running his hands up and down his sides where he knows Gabriel’s ticklish- and sure enough, by the time Dean reaches his chest, mouthing sloppily over his nipples, he’s squirming already.

He’s also reaching for the lube, but Dean isn’t really in the mood for actual  _fucking_  fucking, so when the tube’s pressed into his hand he squeezes a bit out onto his fingers and rubs them together like always, but his hands don’t go down any further than Gabriel’s cock, just grip loosely at that and slide wet along it and Gabriel’s shuddering and writhing small and still sleepy in the sheets, the mattress curving slightly under his weight as he moves across it. The tube of lubricant rolls around, tucks itself against Gabriel’s arm before skittering away when he lifts it up to drape over his eyes.

Dean should probably have noticed how close it was getting to the edge of the bed before it went too near the edge, he’s still lethargic and not a hundred percent with it just yet, and so the lube goes rolling away from his hands and Gabriel’s body and off the mattress to land between it and the wall.

“Ah, fuck.”  Dean shuffles up to peer over the edge in an attempt to see where it’s gone while Gabriel snickers beside him. “Stop it.”

“Not doin’ nothin’.”

Castiel would likely say something about double negatives if he were here. As it is, Dean just scowls at Gabriel- who sticks his tongue out in return- and gingerly sticks his arm down the side of the bed to grope around for the lube. He finds two sweet wrappers first, then a third, and a hell of a lot of dust and hair before his fingers finally close around the bottle. “Aha!”

“My hero,” Gabriel simpers, and as soon as Dean’s arm’s free from the gap between the bed and the wall, he swats him. Gabriel fakes shock. “What was that for?”

“You being a douche. Ew.” Dean’s hands are all lube-y and now dusty, too, which is fuckin’ _a_ , really, though some of the mess is splattered over Gabriel’s arm too, so it’s not a hundred percent bad, he guesses. Gabriel’s watching him, the arm over his face raised so that he can, and raises an eyebrow at Dean.

“Wipe ‘em.” Then, before Dean can protest- “Sex now, washing sheets later.”

Which, okay, Dean can work with. He swipes his hands against the bedsheet (though even with that, fingering and anything involving it is definitely out of the question now) and slathers his hands in more lube to make up for it before flopping back down next to Gabriel and picking up where he left off at his chest and cock. Gabriel gives a soft, pleased hum, squirming happily, his toes curling and uncurling against Dean’s legs as he snuggles that much closer. He’s all soft lines and warm skin and pudge, and Dean’s long since come to the opinion that this is the best way to wake up. Or one of them, after the ways that also involve Cas and Sam.

But anyway. Sex. Gabriel might be content like this, but Dean’s cock is less than wholly pleased about being left out of the proceedings, and as such he tugs at Gabriel’s waist, pulls him flush against him and rolls them over slightly so he’s half-straddling the guy, opening his fist to accommodate both their cocks rather than just the one. Gabriel whimpers his approval, brings his hands up to grasp at Dean’s hair as their hips rock together, slow and steady, dragging pleasure and quiet gasps from both of them in steady pulls.

Gabriel’s hair shines golden in the light from the window, in the flickering flare of the candle as it dances through it, and Dean finds himself entranced by it, by the way Gabriel’s face scrunches up just ever so slightly on each thrust, on the little hitches of breath and soft sounds he’s making. Last night, he’d been something else entirely, something wicked and domineering and unutterably sexy, but in this moment all of that’s gone- the snark, the smirks, everything. This Gabriel is a different beast entirely, and Dean is head over heels for the both of them.

“C’mon, Deano. I’d like to come at some point today.”

Okay, so maybe the snark isn’t entirely gone. But hey. Dean nips playfully at his neck and thrusts faster accordingly, his hand aching a little as he works both their cocks, but fuck, it’s worth it for the way Gabriel arches and presses his head back into the pillow, moaning low in his throat. “Better?”

“Ngh,” says Gabriel, with feeling. Dean grins and presses a kiss to his neck where he bit him.

“I’ll- hah- take that as a yes.”

“Shut up ‘n fuck me, Winchester.”

“Yessir.”

Okay,  _now_  Gabriel’s snark is gone. He thinks. At least, he’s fairly certain he’s managed to replace it with gasps, and whimpers, and moans, too. Much better. It’s too early in the morning for sarcasm- that’s for when they’re getting fucked into the mattress, and they need the one doing the fucking to get a little more riled up. Right now, he likes these sounds better. Dean grinds down harder just to hear them stutter, to feel Gabriel clutch at and arch up towards him, to hear the shuffle of his feet scrabbling for purchase against the mattress, to feel his breath puffing out against Dean’s neck and chest and collarbone as he gasps.

“Fuck, fuck yes, fuck yes Dean please, ohfuck, fuckfuck-!”

The splatter of come over Dean’s hand follows shortly afterwards, Gabriel’s entire body locking up for a moment, for two, before slumping back, boneless, on the bed. His grip on Dean’s hair loosens, and one arm falls away to drape over his face as he breathes. Just breathes, since Dean’s taking a moment just to drink in the sight, rather than fuck himself to completion against his skin.

At least, until Gabriel raises his arm just enough to smirk at him. “You’re allowed to carry on, y’know.”

And, well, who is Dean to say no to that? He shifts a little, so his cock’s pressed against Gabriel’s stomach, and starts thrusting again, Gabriel murmuring encouragement until finally, finally, he’s coming too, white spurts across skin and the thin, pale stretch marks that run across it. Gabriel can’t stand them, will barely look at them, but he seems content to ignore them for now, reaches down all the same and swipes his fingers through the mess, brings them up to his mouth and licks away the spunk in a way that makes Dean suddenly consider a round two.

“Think the other two are out of the shower yet?” He purrs. Dean grins. 

“Probably. Why, you planning something?”

“For you, Deano? Always.”


End file.
